


Unsteady

by shizus_rage



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, POV Shane, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizus_rage/pseuds/shizus_rage
Summary: It's like he’s frozen, but the entire thing probably doesn’t last more than a few seconds. He walks to his room, feeling so embarrassed he wants to die. He can’t look at her, doesn’t, just vows to himself that he can never face her again, ever, under any circumstances.





	1. Every day

It’s the same every day, and Shane’s not sure if he’s learned to live with it or not. He wakes up to his radio’s alarm, and sometimes he’s so exhausted that it plays for tens of minutes before properly interrupting his slumber. Those times, the ones he spends in the comfortable space between sleep and waking, are alright. On the radio they’re talking about trivial things in between songs, like go-karts and blind dates, and his dreams are strange. But then he’s awake and his head hurts and he dreads having to face the day.

Today is one of those days where he hasn’t slept well, but it’s not so bad that he wants to justify calling in sick to work. He drags himself to the bathroom and showers, trying not to think about anything at all.

Marnie’s up. She’s already dealt with some of the animals, he’s sure. She might prepare breakfast before he leaves for work, and he hopes she will, but he's also grateful to miss her on the way back to his bedroom. Not a morning person, these early interactions prove a test of patience.

Shane dresses in his Joja Co. uniform, his shirt a little wrinkled but not unclean. Then he opens the top drawer of his dresser and reaches back behind some junk to find what he needs.

He doesn’t even particularly want the whisky, but withdrawal makes work more of a hell than it already is. So he takes two long drinks straight from the bottle and shudders from it. Uses mouthwash to mask the smell, and he spits that into his trash can.

Ten minutes later the alcohol is kicking in and Shane can hear a clattering of plates outside his room. He doesn't feel a buzz, but the whisky has taken the edge off a little. His hands are steadier. Giving his reflection in the mirror on his dresser a disparaging glance, Shane messes up his hair, and meets Marnie in the kitchen. Jas is there too, sitting at the table, but she’s too engrossed in what she’s reading to offer more than a two word's greeting when he sits down next to her. He appreciates that.

Marnie pours him coffee and sets a plate with toast and eggs in front of him. "You know," she says. "You could make breakfast one of these mornings, while I'm busy in the coop."

He ignores her like he ignores the nagging sense of guilt her words give him. Instead, he uses hot sauce on his breakfast, focuses on it like it’s a very important and interesting task. Digging into his eggs, he turns his attention to what Jas is reading.

"Is that for school, or for fun?" He asks between mouthfuls.

"Fun," Jas says, not looking away from the novel while she eats or responds. "Miss Penny picked it out for me at the library."

“Yeah? What’s it about?”

“You wouldn’t like it,” Jas says with finality.

Shane doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Feeling a bit stupid, he avoids Marnie’s gaze and quickly finishes eating. He washes his plate and leaves with an abrupt “goodbye”.

It feels better once he’s outside, the suffocation he’d experienced gradually fading. It’s not that he’s angry at Marnie or Jas, but Yoba if he didn’t feel terribly guilty being around them at times.

It’s his fault, but that doesn’t make any of it easier.

Sometimes, he thinks they’re walking on eggshells around him. Others he wonders if they’ve given up. But then there are comments like Marnie’s this morning, where he _knows_ she actually likes making breakfast. There was subtext he missed. Or… well, he missed something. But she says things like that and makes him aware she is probably resentful of him.

Fuck if he knows what to do about it. He can make fucking breakfast if that’s what she actually wants. But he doesn’t think it is.

Not fully understanding why he’s agitated, Shane goes through his shift like he’s got something to prove. He works swiftly, efficiently, hardly talks to anyone. Most customers leave him alone, and he avoids them without being conspicuous about it.

The day’s the same as any. It’s an uncomfortable morning, then boring, clock-watching work, and an evening in the saloon he looks forward to all day. He wants to fix the dull headache he’s getting with alcohol, wants to have zero responsibilities or thoughts for a while.

But his evening at the saloon goes a little differently in a small way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short. I wanted to include more, 'cause I have more written, and I have all kinds of ideas, but this writing style is a bit of a test for me. It could be fun, so let me know what you think.


	2. Encounter

Shane stumbles out of the Stardrop Saloon shortly before midnight feeling better than when he walked in. It's raining, and he's surprised by it, but his mood doesn't sour. He’s on some sort of high from the drinks and the peculiar encounter he had earlier. He laughs to himself, feeling warm, wet, and drunk as he makes the trek home.

Taking care not to wake Marnie or Jas, he unlocks the door and makes his way to his bedroom in the dark. Marnie’s a light sleeper, and she probably hears him anyway. Though he might tomorrow, Shane doesn’t particularly care right now. That conversation can wait.

Shedding his clothes: his damp jacket, shorts heavy with the weight of his wallet, and all the layers underneath - Shane is still so preoccupied with that single interaction.

“Hi,” she’d said. And he’d looked at her, bewildered, like she couldn’t possibly be talking to him. But that blonde farmer sat down next to him at the bar. “Gus,” she’d called. “Two more?”

Shane had been a little drunk already, and this had never happened to him before, at least not in Pelican Town. He was aware that this woman was new, not unlike himself, but…

“I’m Clara,” she said amiably, as if he asked. “Have a drink on me tonight.”

“I-I right,” he said stupidly. What came next? He wasn’t about to introduce himself.

Why wasn’t he telling her to go away? What did she want? 

“Cheers,” she said, raising her glass once it arrived. When he didn’t move to follow, she offered a kind of half-smile, drained her pint in one go like a pro.

Shane was at a complete loss. And she got up then, paid for the drinks, walked out the door.  
He’d bristled at the beginning, when she’d greeted him. He’d been awkward as hell. But she left so fast, and he’d still been there, nursing a drink she paid for. Something in his mood had lightened, because even though it was confusing, she hadn’t asked anything of him at all.

But now he found himself back at the ranch, seeking sleep, and knowing he’d find it easy.

Tomorrow would probably be the same as ever. Today, though, Shane supposes hadn’t been as bad as expected.

\---

Tomorrow, it turns out, is Saturday. And Shane is an idiot because he might not have to work at Joja, but he ought to know the day of the week, and ought to know he still has the ranch. No wonder the saloon was so busy last night.

Marnie has to wake him up when his weekday alarm doesn’t, and he feels all the shame of yesterday’s morning. He also feels the shaky sobriety that he doesn’t like anyone to see.

“I’ll be in the coop in ten,” is what he says, trying not to look the way he feels. 

Marnie doesn’t seem particularly bothered, though. She trusts him, he decides with uncharacteristic optimism. Herculean effort allows him to get out of bed, to get dressed without delay. 

Shane drinks his whisky.

In the coop, the chickens calm him down. They’re so easily pleased and they never ask any questions. Shane sweeps and collects eggs, sits down in the corner. Charlie scampers over and he takes her into his lap.

“I’m a mess,” Shane tells her. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He spends a while like that, quietly stroking her. There are other obligations, and his head hurts, stomach hurts. He needs to check the barn, needs to take care of himself, but most of all he needs to stop thinking. So he closes his eyes and pets his favourite hen and gives himself a little more time.


End file.
